


Son of the Mountain

by MikoMiyoko



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Fluff, Gender-Neutral Apprentice (The Arcana), Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, M/M, Multi, Other, POV First Person, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 16:21:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20678327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikoMiyoko/pseuds/MikoMiyoko
Summary: After a long day of celebrating eight years since your son's arrival, night has blanketed the sky and it's now time to find sleep. But not before a bedtime story is told. A story that is scary. Muriel had wanted to avoid this but maybe it was time his son knew about the Scourge of the South.





	Son of the Mountain

The golden sun sets in the west coloring the sky with hues of orange and pink amongst the clouds. The blanket of the night sky rolls out with glimmering stars putting to bed any day time creatures to rest. In the forest, many creatures find their sleep but our family remain awake by the light of the fire of our humble hovel. The giggles of my son, our son, fill the room where my beloved husband and I raise him. 

Muriel had once called this place a home for his solitude. Always thinking he would live the rest of his days alone and protecting what he could around him. I remember seeing him act as a stranger to comfort or avoid the mere idea of happiness. As he grew closer to me, I grew closer to him. I no longer see the man who shrouds himself in shadows and cloaks with the chains of his sins. I see him in the full light from the fire within. Muriel now wears his hair much longer and proudly in braids, a thicker beard to hide his scars, and lighter clothing that bears the patterns of the Kokhuri to match his strong figure.

I watch him beaming at our son as he plays with the small wood chickens Muriel carved out always smiling at the excitement he brings into our home. Today was special in particular; he woke up early to teach him to fish with his hands; learning to weave simple patterns on the loom; and even taking him into the city to let him try smoked eel for the first time while pick up a loaf of our favorite bread. Our son turned eight years old today. Eight years since we became parents always wanting to spend every moment teaching our child how to be a proper young man. 

It was getting late as told by a large yawn by our son. He insisted that he wasn’t tired at all but his father knows better to wear his child out. He took him where his bed resided just west of the household. I followed them into the small room carrying some fresh laundry. The room itself was small with a fire place and there were repairs to be had but, for the most part, it remained to be the coziest place in our home. Funny how it used to be where the chickens would run around outside to now have walls built by Muriel when he heard news of our child was on his way.

While Muriel changed our son out of his day clothing and tuck him into his bed, I started to fold and tuck his clothes into the baskets. Muriel went through his routine for bedtime, clean sheets, a cup of water with a small trinket animal on the side, a protection charm and a sprig of myrrh under the pillow, and a bed time story.

“Poppy, can you tell me a scary story?”

“Hm? A scary story?”

“Yes! Scary!” Muriel thought a little bit. 

“No, it’s not a good idea. You’ll get nightmares and we like to sleep.” He waved a hand over to me. I couldn’t help but smile at that concern. And yet…

“Poppy pleaaaaase?”

“No, it’s not a good id-“ 

“But I’m old enough!” Muriel had opened his mouth to argue but then couldn’t find the words.

He looked to his son staring at him eagerly with those big green eyes he inherited. I nudged Muriel’s shoulder whispering to him ‘_One story couldn’t hurt him.’_ Muriel sighed at defeat and gave in to his son’s demand. Whether he liked it or not, his son was growing up. He couldn’t deny that. I watch him stroke his beard in thought and glance at the rocks near the window sill. Our son had let out another ‘_pleaaaase?_’ and that was when it was decided. 

“Alright my son. One story.” 

“A scary story!” Such excitement in his voice. 

“Just one scary story but no more after this.” 

I smiled at my boys scooting closer to hear what was told. Muriel’s voice was always so soothing and calm during this time. I wonder if we will get any sleep tonight. He cleared his throat as he does and takes a deep breath. 

“Son, I have told you to always be aware of the dangers in the woods and Vesuvia.”

“Yes Poppy! Always stay close and no talking to strangers even if they look like friends.”

“Yes. But have I told you of The Scourge of the South?”

“No…” The little voice dropped. 

I had stopped folding clothes and looked over. He wasn’t going to tell him that story, was he? 

“The Scourge of the South is a fearsome man. He lurks the lands destroying anything in his path with bitter vengeance. Nothing can stand to survive his wrath as he made his way across the land. He had resided in the coliseum in the heart of Vesuvia taking in victims one by one.” 

Our son had started to huddle under his covers. 

“You mean the big place near the market?”

“Yes…”

“But no ones there!”

“For a long time, yes. But it was the meeting place of people coming in to see the slaughter of many. It was a cruel sport for the king to gain pleasure from. Watching his new found pet taking off the limbs of those who sought glory and riches.”

Still hiding under the covers, our son was very silent but still attentive to hear the rest. 

“What happened Poppy?”

“I just said he was a fearsome man that rip-”

“Nooo what happened to The Scourge? Why is he so mean?”

“Why?... I… uh…” Muriel’s voice once grimdark suddenly in a mess of confusion. I haven’t heard this much silence from him in a long time. Still looking back I see he is lost in thought. Not long as he starts again. 

“The Scourge of the South was known being a powerful force but was a regular man at one point. He had a home, a family, friends and a clan of his own. Love had surrounded him till a terrible raid had took all what was once his. All that he had, all he had known was gone in an instant. What terror had been wrought upon his life he had vowed to find it and seek his vengeance. But… all that he did only brought him sadness.”

“Why was he sad?” The littlest squeaked out.

“Everywhere he went reminded him of home. Yet every crime he had committed had blinded him of his humanity, robbing any chance of redemption. It wasn’t until the king had passed away he was set free to spread havoc again. He had set his sights on the woods beyond the walls of Vesuvia to seek his next victims.” 

In that moment, the wind picked up and there was a loud bang at the window. In an instant our son had leapt into Muriel’s arms hiding his face within his shirt. 

“Oh no…” I dropped the clothes and rush over. Muriel already stroking his back in comfort as a way of saying _‘I’m so sorry.’_ There was some sniffling and I pulled out a handkerchief to wipe any tears. 

“Shhh…shhh.. Calm, calm… it’s okay.” Muriel coos at him. Through some tears our son asks.

“He’s not here, is he?”

“No, no he is not here. He will never get you.” Our son’s eyes light up through some tears.

“Really?”

“I have meet the Scourge.”

“Wha…?” Muriel smiled at his son’s confusion. “No you didn’t!” Muriel barked out a laugh.

“I have, son. I had met him in the woods thinking he and I were the same. You see, all his life he had lead a life of solitude thinking that all the terrible things in life was a result of him being a terrible being. I had thought the same of myself till one day…” He paused.

“Till what?” Muriel looked down at him with a playful smirk. “Till what Poppy?”

“You might not like this part.”

“Tell meee!” He tugged at Muriel’s shirt. 

“I fell in love.” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes and turn back to my work knowing what he’ll say next. 

“I had lived on the streets of Vesuvia not knowing or caring about the civilians that resided there. I had only but one friend I could trust that had given me a task to watch over someone while they were away. It was my duty to protect them knowing I will not be remembered. But as I watched them from afar, they kept coming closer and closer to me till they knew my name, my face… everything about me.” I saw him close his eyes and sigh. I felt some red on my face but it could be just the fire dimming down.

“The Scourge and I were very similar except he was scorned from losing everything that he forgot how to love in return. He had been following me, watching me… He had tried to pry his power over me for years. Instead of killing me the weight of his sins pulled me down, putting chains around me. He was always watching, always waiting for me to carry out his deeds. Then one night as I was sure I would be under his hold for good till the one I protected for all these years helped me take those shackles off with a kiss. That's when the Scourge appeared to me. He had asked me how did I break free from him.”

“What did you say Poppy?”

“I answered... I had once believed that my solitude was reason enough to hurt others. But my life is tied with those around me. They have shown me kindness and I would gladly give everything if it means they will be happy. They will know that my love for them is eternal as the carving on the stone. I had vowed to not hurt others in fear or anger but to protect the ones I love. He had bowed his head towards me and walked away into the mist. I swear to you that the Scourge was a being twisted to be something beyond human and yet when I saw him leave, he was just another man. He was never heard of every again. Now you know the story of the Scourge of the South.”

Feeling satisfied and sufficiently tired, Muriel had tucked in our son in his bed once more. I had finished folding the last piece of laundry and slowly padded my way over to the other side of the room. I stroked my son’s hair and pushed his black bangs away to plant a little goodnight kiss. Muriel had done the same till our son’s eyes closed and he was gently snoring away. 

We let ourselves out of the room and pulled the curtains shut. The evening may be done for him but Muriel and I know that there were dishes that had to be cleaned before we retired for the night. Luckily, we had some water from earlier in the day so no late night runs to the river. We had got to work with me scrubbing dishes and Muriel drying them off.

“That was a nice story you told him back there.” Muriel snorted at that. 

“I didn’t think he was old enough to know scary stuff.”

“He’s growing up. I can’t believe eight years have already flown by.” Muriel grunted in agreement. Still I was curious.

“Why did you tell him _that _story, Muriel?”

“Because it was scary, like he asked.”

“You know what I mean.” He slowed his drying for a bit.

“Someone might mention it him one day. I don’t want him…” He went silent.

Some things don’t ever really change do they? There was still some concern from his past creeping up again. I was sure we had gotten through this already. 

“Muriel, he won’t be scared of you. He’s a good boy and he loves y-“

“I don’t want him to turn out to be like me.”

“Be like you?… All I ever hear from him is how he wants to be like his Poppy.” 

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what?” That came out a little harsher than expected.

Muriel leaned over clutching the dish in his hand more tightly. His face was starting to darken again. I shouldn’t have pushed him so much and it’s hurting him. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to press you like that.” 

“No, it’s okay…” He took a deep breath and continued, “I… I want him to always remember to be kind to others. If something happens to you or me, he would not turn to violence. I don’t want him to be like me back then.” 

I looked up at him seeing how his face is still dark from those thoughts. It pains him time to time. It was years ago but the healing is still slow. I dry my hands off and reach up to push some hair out of his face. His emerald eyes follow my hand as I rest it upon his cheek rubbing circles where one of his scars is. He leans into my touch closing his eyes finding some comfort bringing him back to a better mood. 

“Muriel, you are a good man who has been through so many things. But I have seen you grow as much as our son. Always wanting to wake up early to teach him something new, playing with him, even going to Vesuvia more often. You used to want to hide from everyone and now you are unafraid of showing your face. If anything I want our son to be like you now.” He chuckled at that. I couldn’t help but smile at him. 

“I remember when you saw our son for the first time you were so scared to hold him. You treated him like glass as if he were to shatter at any moment at your touch.” The mere mention of it embarrassed Muriel. 

“I never held a baby in my life. What was I supposed to do?”

"You have held chicks in your hands! And yet a baby scared you. But then when I placed him in your arms you held him as if he were made of gold never wanting to put him down.” 

That was a fond memory that we hold together. Muriel placed his hand over mine and placed a kiss on my palm. He whispered a thank you to me and gently placed his lips against mine. 

“I love you Muriel and so does our son.”

“I love you both more than the sun and moon and stars in the sky.” 

We comfortably worked on the dishes in silence, our shoulders occasionally bumping into one another. Just the sounds of the fire crackling and the clinks of dishes being put away one by one. It wasn’t long till we finished our late night chore and started to tidy up. Muriel had taken the bucket full of dish water to empty out till I heard a large grunt and a water spilling to the ground. I whipped around to see Muriel with a fist balled up to his mouth trying to keep quiet and the bucket emptied out on the floor. 

“Are you okay?” Muriel slowly nodded and lifted up his foot. A small wood trinket dropped to the floor, surprisingly unscathed. 

“I should’ve told him to pick this up.” Muriel said quietly to himself. 

I sighed and grabbed a towel to clean the water on the floorboard. I made a mental note to mop the floor clean in the morning. Muriel leaned down with me to pick up the small toys making sure none were left for anyone to step on. He closely inspected the one he stepped on in his hand. It was a little chick he carved out years ago. It belonged to a set with two adult chickens. I wrung out the water into the bucket and stood up to dump whatever was left outside.

Once I came back and closed the door, Muriel stood up still looking at the chick. He was lost in thought again till I spoke up.

“Is everything okay?”

“Umm… I was thinking. Maybe I should carve another one.” 

“Another one…” I said to myself.

“I-I mean,” He cleared his throat, “This one looks a little lonely. It has two parents- I mean chickens. Probably a good idea to maybe carve another little one to keep it company.” Muriel blushed and was a bit flustered. 

Maybe it was the fire but red was returning to my face. I walked over to see the small chick in his one of his hands and the two larger chickens in his other. I pick up the wood chicken from his hand. I looked up to him and I couldn’t stop the smile forming. 

“I think this one would love to have another chick.” He smiled and raised the others in his hands. 

“Me too.” 

We held those trinkets in our hands. My left hand was empty but with promise of another one being carved, our hands will be as full as the home. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> It's been years since I last wrote any piece of fiction and did this one purely out of enjoyment. I do apologize if there are moments that might be out of character or any information that might be wrong. 
> 
> Just a couple of notes from my thought process:
> 
> -I wanted to write a story about Muriel moving forward in his life and better understanding the love his parents had for him by having a son of his own
> 
> -The apprentice here is gender neutral so how the son became to be is entirely up the imagination of the reader 
> 
> -There was an attempt to emulate the first person POV of The Arcana just to better the immersive experience 
> 
> That is it for this piece. Thank you again for reading the whole way through!


End file.
